


Mirror's Edge

by tzigane, Zaganthi (Caffiends)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, Double Penetration, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mirrors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-28
Updated: 2012-10-28
Packaged: 2017-11-17 06:00:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/548370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tzigane/pseuds/tzigane, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caffiends/pseuds/Zaganthi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Can I get my wrists undone?"  Richard huffed a breath, but Jim's hands were warm on Bastian's wrists, letting him loose, letting him free. He rolled over when he got the chance, shooting a look at Jim's brother. It took him a moment to pay attention to what Jim was saying, and it was only because he could see the delight on the face of that son of a bitch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mirror's Edge

Sometimes picking Jim up in bars was good fun. The last few times had been at least entertaining, and Bastian usually rolled with the action Jim gave him. Sometimes it involved different personalities, roles he was trying on. Given that the place was sort of a lower tier hippy joint, he was leaning towards another personality just then. Still, it was all good.

The room was hazy with smoke, not all of it tobacco if the scent was anything to go by. That wasn't all that surprising, since even Jim's pretend personalities always did at least a little something naughty.

The crowd wasn't all that thick, but it still took Bastian a few minutes to realize where Jim was sitting. He was tucked back into a corner looking as much unlike himself as he ever had, expression sweet and a little docile, perhaps. Submissive, almost, instead of the biting, scratching, fucking little bastard he actually was. Best to roll with it, then. He strode over to him, putting a hand through Jim's under-product-ed hair, and leaning down to kiss him. "Hey, babe. What made you tell me to meet you here?"

The blank look of surprise following that kiss was... different. "What? Ah, I'm sorry, I don't... you're not... who the hell are you?"

Not quite right, maybe a little further than he expected Jim was comfortable acting. "I, uh. Sorry, you look exactly like my boyfriend." It took him aback for just a brief second, leaning back to really look at him. Little more facial scruff than he should've had, Jim'd shaved clean just that morning and his five o'clock shadow wasn't that pervasive. 

The uncomfortable expression was probably worth a mint in Jim's opinion. He would undoubtedly have someone taking photos or filming the entire thing for posterity. "Oh." As though that were the only thing he could say. He looked just like Jim, sounded like him, too. It was really quite remarkable. "Um. I, I do have a twin. Haven't seen him in years, though, not since the parents divorced."

Interesting. He might learn more in five minutes with this fellow than he had in five years with Jim. Jim would call it unnecessary information, nothing pertinent to their relationship. Everything was pertinent to their relationship, Bastian had discovered over the years."Jim?" he guessed, pitching his voice quiet and interested as he eased himself into the chair across from the fellow. No sense in apologizing for the kiss, and every sense in continuing to engage him.

God. That doe-eyed expression made his dick twitch. If Jim looked at him that way, Bastian was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to resist doing things so damn dirty to him that they could sell it for porn. "James, yes. So he must be...?"

"I'm not sure if you're angling for queer, or still alive and living in London," Sebastian smiled, holding his hand out to the man. "I'm Sebastian. Good to meet you...?"

"Oh!" Fuck. Jim was such a sadistic bastard. "I'm Richard. Richard Brook."

He'd always known Moriarty was something that Jim had made up out of whole cloth. Art of death, after all. Seemed a bit too fitting, though a very good chosen name. Sebastian smiled, and shook the fellow's hand. "Good to meet you, Richard. I'm sorry about -- you really look just like him."

"Hmmm." His fingers cupped the ceramic of his cup and he leaned down to take a sip as though that might somehow hide the fact that he was extremely interested in Bastian's information. "I haven't seen him since we were children." Richard paused. "How is he?"

"Doing really well. He's into IT, computers and programming. He worked healthcare systems for a while, but has his own consultancy now." With his older boyfriend, god, that had to look full of implications to a normal person. "So what do you do?"

The way Richard settled into the sofa said that he was at least moderately all right with their conversation. "Oh, I'm an actor. Children's television, reading stories." He even had the same lilt to his speech, but he looked as though butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. It was all Bastian could do to keep from reaching down and rubbing the heel of his hand against his cock. Who would have thought comparative innocence would be so attractive in his psychopathic boss-cum-boyfriend?

Not that it was, but it was very.... interesting, to see the similarities. To hear the way Jim suppressed his accent most times, erratic, all over the place with his mimicries and tones, and then hear Richard, who seemed comfortable. "Huh. That's an interesting business to get into. How did you end up doing that?" And how did he end up so seemingly normal? They were twins, clearly identical. It seemed logical to Sebastian that he'd be firing all neurons just as well as Jim, so what was the difference?

One hand waved expressively. "Oh, well. I thought once that I might like to teach, but it turned out that I just quite liked literature. It's sort of a combination of _things I thought I might do_ and _it turns out that I don't like children_." He was unfamiliar with the curve of that mouth, a wry sort of poking fun at himself that Jim didn't much do. "So, IT? Really? I suppose I can see that. Was always rather more interested in books than computers, but they do come in handy. Computers, that is."

"It's as much people as it is networking machines together. Jim wanted me to meet him here after I got off work for the day, so if you're willing to stick around..." He leaned up a little, looked around the room and over his shoulder, as much actually looking for Jim as it was an indication that if Richard waited, he'd see his brother.

There was something about the way he looked around, half-hopeful, half-fearful. "Really? You know, Father utterly refused to allow me to visit. I don't know, something about some incident when we were children. He never would say exactly what."

"Jim doesn't talk about his family much. Sort of a live in the now philosophy," Bastian shrugged. Half-fearful, that was interesting. Yeah, Richard knew exactly what was up, then, remembered hints of what Jim was at his core. And Jim'd picked the place for a reason. It was a deeply satisfying feeling to be thrust into a game where everyone was pretending they weren't playing a game, but no one was sure what the game was. "Do you have a family?"

"Oh, no. Father never remarried, whatever the reason, and I..." He waved a hand. "Just was never inclined. Too busy, I suppose." Or he was as gay as Jim and tried to hide it a bit more since he read children's novels on telly. That was probably a great deal more likely.

"So you went with your da, and Jim ended up with your mum?" Or was Jim raised solitary of even that. Possibly by wolves, but no, that was just Bastian being a bit of a bastard in his own head. After all, he'd had. A roof over his own head growing up, even if it wasn't anything that he'd call a stable family life, and look where his sister had ended up compared to him.

The way he sipped in order to avoid answering was such a clear tell that Bastian nearly laughed. So, not his mum then, but if not, then who had raised him? "I think so. You have to understand, we were very young. I hardly remember any of it. But still, it's so odd, running into you here, and you knowing Jim."

"Jim has that way about him," Bastian told Richard lightly. "He does these little schemes, you know? He'd seen me a few nights running in a bar, and overheard I was looking for a flat-share. Gathered up his courage and said oh, he was looking for a flat-share, ended up moving out of his real place... It's pretty funny, looking back. Very Jim."

Richard seemed all right with it. Who the fuck knew? "Jim being Jim. It's just remarkable, really." He seemed to be gathering himself, and when he pulled the foot tucked behind his knee out and set it on the ground, Bastian relaxed entirely.

No way in hell would Jim let him out of there without showing up to stop it.

"Hello, darling!" It was caroled from just behind his left ear, and then he felt a hand on his throat, tilting up his head and firmly placing the fingers on either side of his jugular. His entire head was swimming by the time Jim pulled away from kissing him, the slowed blood supply certainly not doing anything for his current state of arousal. "I was wondering where you were, and then I thought perhaps you were chatting up some dark-haired... Oh."

Oh, as if that were the first time he had looked Richard full in the face. Bastian wouldn't believe it to be true even if hell froze. Then again, Jim would be the one standing there and offering people ice skates if that were the case. "You never told me you had a twin, Jim," Bastian said, leaning back in his own space, gesturing for Jim to sit between them. "I thought Richard was you."

"I hadn't thought about it in some time, darling." The resemblance was uncanny, and the idea of them together was.... Well. There were a multitude of reasons that Jim kept him around instead of shooting him and burying him in someone's garden. His general sense of perversion was one of those reasons.

"Still," Bastian murmured, "its been a bit startling. Richard here does theatre."

"Oooh, how lovely!" Jim was terribly chipper. It was moderately disgusting, but Bastian quite liked it when he pretended to be someone else. "I always rather thought theatre might be fun."

"It isn't theatre exactly," Richard demurred. "I read children's books on telly. That's all."

"Still, it must be nice to be famous. I could never do that. Too shy." As if he had ever had a shy moment in his life.

Bastian laughed quietly, watching Jim's expression. Bastard, lying bastard, watching the two of them slowly turn up the dial past what was really a good idea. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, babe."

"Oh, but that'd be you, honey. Daddy does so approve of your methods." There was his vicious little bugger. "And what about you, Ricky? No partner, no significant other?"

It was a bit like a mouse unaware that he was about to be supper for a snake. "Oh, um..."

"Girlfriend? Boyfriend?" He leaned back on the sofa, stretched his legs out, crossed casually at the ankle. "Pets? House?"

Really, it was quite charming. Richard seemed at least moderately aware that Jim was dangerous, which clearly said something about their childhood. "Oh, just a highly self-sufficient cat. Galahad. He was Father's." He glanced over at Jim expectantly. "And how is Aunt Linda?"

"Oh, long dead." Jim waved a hand, and Bastian filed that name away as well. He'd probably find no trade of even suspicious circumstances, but it did make a man wonder. "Ended up in care."

It had so far been the most deeply informative fifteen minutes of his life.

Jim kept secrets for the sake of the secrets themselves. He knew what made Bastian curious and just how to arrange things to keep him guessing.

"Oh. I'm sorry. After Mum died, Father just went to pieces. He was never the same after that."

Jim flashed something that didn't really resemble a smile that much. "And did he still blame me?"

Pieces and bits and bobs, and it made him glad to not be between the two of them as they talked. "He did. I guess. He never really talked about it..."

Oh. Oh, that bitter little scoff. It was delicious. "Well. You would know, which is quite funny considering you were the one playing with matches."

"What? No, I, I still don't like fire today, I, _Jim_." His voice stressed at the edges in a way Sebastian knew well from many people who'd come across Jim when he pressed too hard in all the interesting places.

The bitter way Jim laughed was nothing and everything like him. "Of course not. It never was you, was it, Ricky?"

He clutched at his cup. "You haven't changed much, have you? You were manipulative as a child. I _never_ , Jimmy."

Oh, and there was the Jim he knew, all toothy smile and wild eyes. "Oh, you know you were as bad as I ever was. You were just more sneaky about it."

"I was not! I didn't get sent off to care, and I didn't ignore your attempts to contact me!" There was injury in his voice, because Jim apparently had.

Dear god. And he had thought his relationship with Brina was bad. He wondered what the point of all this was. "You left me alone with Aunt Linda." The way he stressed the word seemed to imply all sorts of things. "Why should I answer you?"

"Because we were the same age! What was I supposed to do?" Grow up and have a sibling spat in a shitty bar come restaurant, apparently. It was damn impressive. At least Sabrina hissed at him to shut up and that they'd finish in private later. He supposed he could be grateful for that.

"Oh, I don't know. Probably nothing, maybe something, and really, Ricky, I don't think this is a conversation to be had in public." Jim looked at Bastian in a way that said... god, he didn't know what. "But isn't it funny, knowing things could have been different?"

"No, it's not." Richard's expression was tight, displeased, Sebastian could tell that as he shifted away from Jim a little. "I'm sorry, Jimmy, I just don't know what to do..."

"Well." The way that warbled from Jim's tongue, lingered as if he were in fact considering something instead of having already made up his mind, made the hair on the back of Bastian's neck stand on end. Twisted little bastard had a plan, probably had for weeks. "You could always call now and then. Come over for dinner, perhaps. Sebastian makes a delicious rack of lamb. Mmm. Lamb."

Bastian gave a startled laugh, and ran a hand back through his hair. "Slow cooked, actually. It's a recipe I picked up in Argentina. You should, actually -- come over."

It was clear from Richard's reluctance that he knew Jim significantly better than he would have liked, and it made him skittish. "I don't know...."

"Oh, honestly. What am I going to do? Tie you to your chair and set fire under it?" That was always a possibility, actually, but it made Bastian smile all the same.

He smacked Jim's hip playfully, grinning. "I hope not, I like the flat. No, really -- come over. We'll trade cell numbers."

That look, the suspicion, the faint twitch of a hungry gleam in the center of Richard's dark eyes made him shiver. Maybe it was a glimpse of Jim, something that Richard hid better, or maybe it was just a weak reflection that he expected to see. "Well... I suppose. Perhaps."

Bastian was all easy smiles as he stepped in to allay the man's unease. He leaned up, fishing out his cell phone. "What's your number?"

That bite of his lip was sweet. It probably made Jim hard because that was Jim. It made Bastian want to pet him, kiss him until he was panting and manic and threatening him with drugs to keep him hard until they wore down. "I, I have a card...."

"Then give it over." So imperious. Hmmm.

"Thanks." Bastian lifted his eyebrows at Jim, an open sign to ease it back a bit. "Lemme write my number on the back of one."

Yeah. Jim was definitely hard when he brushed his elbow past him, and smiling at Bastian in a way that said he was deeply, wonderfully enjoying himself. Watching Richard fumble for his cards made it seem surreal. He was so... soft. Like a kitten, really, compared to Jim and the sharp teeth he showed even when he tried to seem harmless. "All right." All rounded edges, while Bastian reached into his jacket and fished a pen out. With as much ease, he could've fished out a stiletto, but pen it was, ready to write down his contact information to broker between two very different twins.

He could only imagine where all of this would end.

* * *

Sometimes, he got the feeling that he'd been played. Not often -- Bastian usually saw that for what it was before it ever reached a point where he was suspicious. Then again, living with a criminal genius who quite like edged weapons and threatening to do terrible things to people did mean that it happened a bit more often than he would like.

He'd slow cooked the lamb legs until the whole flat smelled like it, done the meal up nicely, if he said so himself. Soft salted rice, the lamb and the vegetables, the caramelized plantains. Jim joked that every time he went to South America, he came back five pounds heavier, but if the food wiped some of the taste of standard fare like chip fucking buttys out of his mouth, that was all right with Bastian. Chip fucking buttys, unbelievable northern travesties.

"Mmmm, honey, that smells soooo good." Jim looked entirely like himself sometimes. Jim from IT was sort of a trashy little slut, but there was something about those denims that just made Bastian want to fuck him into the floor. He figured that was only natural, and very likely that was the whole point in Jim owning them. "To die for."

"Hopefully everyone walks away from tonight with all limbs attached." He slid a hand down to Jim's ass, gave it a squeeze as he hauled Jim in closer. "After a good meal. Are we actually going to let him finish dinner before....?" Then again, he might need the energy. It was a beautiful sort of picture in his head, Jim fucking his own brother. The two of them, lean and dark-haired, Jim twice over.

He'd spent a fair few of the mornings in the last week having it off in the shower just thinking about it.

Jim gave him a smile, a little motion of lip and a flirty glance of sparse lashes that made him look almost like Richard. "It's only polite, don't you think?"

"Fair's fair, I suppose. Is the Malbec cold enough?" He glanced to where the wine was chilling. Get everyone relaxed enough, and shit, it'd almost be like non-coercive consent.

Sort of. Nearly. Maybe. "Near enough." He was looking at Bastian, then, and it was enough to make him fucking nervous. Facing down stone cold killers was less terrifying than standing in the kitchen with his boyfriend. Partner. Boss. What the fuck ever. "Are you ready?"

He pulled away a little, to grab plates. "Yeah, I'm ready. I'm still a little shocked that you have an identical twin."

"A boy needs his secrets." Sing-song, which meant that he was flying a little high. There didn't seem to be any chemical addition to that, but then, it was rarely necessary when he was in this mood.

It was a good mood, and he sort of liked to keep Jim there. The bedroom was prepped -- a few bits of new bondage gear, new PVC sheets on the mattress in anticipation of a long fucking night, plenty of lube, condoms. And soon there was going to be a softer sort of Jim all wrapped up and easy.

God, it was going to be so good.

He came right on time, too, knocked on the door after being buzzed in.

Richard was dressed exactly like someone who read books to children on the telly ought to be dressed -- chinos and a nice shirt, sensible shoes, all timid smiles and little hand motions. "I quite surprised myself by accepting the invitation. Considering."

"Jim's harmless," Bastian shrugged, offering Richard an easy handshake. "Come in, make yourself at home. I was just going to put dinner on the plate. He's sort of banned from cooking. He set the smoke detector off with pancakes first day here."

Ah, but he did love that pout. It made him hot, although perhaps not quite so much as the way that Jim looked sucking his cock. "Well. I did say I was a terrible cook."

"I thought you were being humble," he countered, twisting a little to pat Jim's shoulder on his way back. "Make yourself comfortable. I'll get the wine as well." As if Jim from IT had himself an older sugar daddy who liked to cook and had a military bearing.

Nothing at all wrong with that.

"Well, Ricky. And how are things? How is dear Da?" Oh, that did bring up the hackles again. Something... something just a touch off. He wasn't sure what or how, exactly. Just... Off.

Too aggressive for the role Jim was playing, full of bleed-over. "Still a maths lecturer."

"And how is that all working out for him? Still hasn't gotten any further with that little math problem of his, hmmm?"

The purse of Richard's lips seemed infinitely familiar and strangely prudish. "You know it would have been in the news if he had."

He opened the wine and grabbed three glasses to pour quickly. Let it breathe for a moment, but not too long, and then he went back to getting plates out, setting the table. It was all so domestic, as though they were normal people and not a criminal mastermind and his assassin. For all that Jim complained about normal people and their boring, normal lives, he did like to play at being like them.

"Yes, and isn't it just delicious that it hasn't been?"

"Your da was a maths professor?" Bastian asked, coming out of the kitchen with the wine glasses, held out to the twins as easy offer.

Jim turned his way, moving in a manner that was all slinky hips and _fuck me now_. "Well known, in fact. He consulted on... what was it again, Ricky?"

Biting his lip, Richard reached out and took the glass, sliding a glance towards Jim. "Hodge conjecture," Richard sighed. "Just because I've turned to theatre doesn't mean I've gone stupid, Jimmy."

Oh, but they were both smug little bastards, and there was that thread of _off-not-right-run-now-while-you've-got-the-sense-Sebastian_ that he ought to be listening to with every pulsing beat of his heart, but somehow his sense of self-preservation went to shit once the boss got involved.

He sat down briefly, and took a swig of his drink. "The meat's resting. How'd you end up in theatre again?"

"A bit of this and that." It wasn't much of an answer, and then Richard slid closer, a little further away from Jim and closer to Bastian. "I got terribly bored at university, and, well. It was just so much fun, being other people."

"Being ordinary people, he means." Jim was watching them both, and there was something possessive about the way that he looked at Bastian. "You know."

And the plan had been to keep that quiet, which made Bastian wonder just what and how much of Richard did bleed into Jim territory if he was comfortable enough to say that out loud. "Do I?"

"Didn't I say he was precious?" The way Jim moved, light, almost dancing, would have terrified anyone else. He was mostly accustomed to it, and then Jim was behind him, one arm wrapping loosely around his shoulders, teeth sharp against the lobe of his ear. 

"I don't seem to remember being here for that conversation, no," Bastian murmured, looking over his shoulder briefly at Jim, and then glancing at Richard. 

"Well, Jim and I had a chat or two before dinner, and you should maybe leave it covered in the oven on warm. Have another glass of wine, Colonel, I think you had plans you wanted to try?" Richard's hand was on his thigh, fingers curling to the inside.

Fuuuuck.

Right. Clearly the itching for a gun was completely justified, because when he looked up, Richard looked so much like Jim that it was terrifying. There was nothing all that soft about him at the moment, just a fire banked somewhere in the back of his dark eyes, and Jim laughed in his ear, biting down again, fingers knotting in his hair to pull back his head as he began to work his way down his throat. "Surprise, surprise, Basty."

"Uhn, not the surprise I was looking for," he protested, pulling away just a little, carefully trying to disengage himself because one Jim was fine, perfect, yeah, all right, but two, two was not good.

"No, no, shhh, no, I think this is just the surprise you were looking for," Richard cajoled, leaning in to kneel over Bastian's hips, getting a fistful of his shirt in hand. "It's no twin on twin incest, but I promise you're going to embark on the ride of your life, baby."

Jim laughed, and it was soft, dark, rich, terrifying. "You know you're mine." Barely heard, but it was a better promise than love. He might be an obsessive psychopath, but he was also very particular about the things he considered as belonging to him. They had been in Italy for business once and someone had laid a hand on Sebastian. He had gone still, head turning, and before he could suggest politely that it be removed (he hadn't wanted to ruin the business transaction in progress), the man had gained a third eye. Jim hadn't so much as flinched, just smiled, slow and hateful, and turned to the dead mobster's second in command to continue just as if he hadn't just shot the man in the head.

That was the sort of thing that made it so easy to work with Jim; everyone was fucking terrified of him, which was why he shifted backwards slightly even as Richard took a swig of his wine and leaned in to take a kiss. It seemed simple enough, except it was less like kissing and more like falling into a hot bottomless pit.

Eternity was the kind of thing that people talked about in movies. Blah blah, something eternal, blah blah blah. Clearly none of them had ever been here, held between what Sebastian knew for solid certain was death and a fucking long drop. He ought to be scared out of his mind. If he had so much as a lick of sense, he would be. Instead, his cock was so hard he wasn't sure how it hadn't battered its way out of his trousers, and all he could do was moan into that mouth, hands clenching as Jim's teeth nipped their way down to his shoulder before biting more sharply.

That made him gasp, and Richard hummed in pleasure in response. "Jim told me all about his pet officer. Sniper, bit of a temper, completely devoted... I don't think you were lying, Jim." And Richard was kneeling over him like some slut begging for it, even if he was doing it in trousers and boring clothes.

He was so very clearly **fucked**.

Jim hummed, fingers rising up to pull away Bastian's t-shirt, eyeing the bite mark with a sense of enjoyment so utterly flagrant that Bastian could feel it where he sat. "Oh. No. I would never lie to you, Ricky, would I?"

"I, Jim, boss, I should probably see to--" Anything, anything at all, even as he moved his arms to help Jim help him out of his own t-shirt, while Richard leaned back, smiling. 

"I bet I can make him come before we get to the bedroom."

The way Jim stiffened made him nervous. Nervouser. Was there such a word? Probably not, but then there was a huff of breath against his neck, lips that he could tell were pouting. "Clearly I don't take bets I might lose."

"But you take bets you're sure you'll win," he countered, sliding fingers to squeeze Bastian's dick through his pants. "Oh, Fuck. This, this is probably actually a bad idea, clearly its causing tension between you two, why don't I..."

Hiss against his ear now. "No." No, as if that were all, but this was some very strange power game, and Bastian was fairly certain he wanted the answer to be yes. "Come with me, Sebastian. With us." With them, and Richard was moving away, looking at him with a gaze more avaricious and, frankly, unhinged than he had seen in Jim in quite some time.

Fuck.

Richard shrugged out of his jumper right there, and then pulled off his t-shirt, as casual about nudity as Jim was. "C'mon, tiger. It'll be fun. You've been daydreaming about my arse split open, haven't you?"

Yeah, before he'd gotten a feeling that he was being played, sure. He stood up when Jim gave him a nudge, and he might as well go with the power game, then. "I'm pretty sure your definition of fun and mine might diverge." He was seriously starting to worry about whatever had happened to Jim's mum. Now that he thought about it, he'd seen the squirrelly little motherfucker rounding up all the lighters and matches earlier. He had thought that might just be a way to imply something, not a way to keep him safe.

It was funny -- funny weird, not funny haha -- to see them both there, flat dark gazes meeting, and a muscle twitched in Jim's wrist, his hand shifting. "You'll remember he's mine. And I like my playthings back in one usable piece."

"Of course. And you'll be here," Richard reminded him, faux charming, not sing song, but reaching for it in a familiar way that made Bastian close his eyes for a moment as he stood up. 

"Doesn't the toy get a say?"

"No."

No, just like that, as if Richard had become the one in charge, and he was quite frankly just a bit terrified by that notion. Jim was frowning, though, brows knit, mouth pursed, and the way he looked at Richard narrowed for a moment in a way that made Bastian think that blood was inevitable. It was just a question of whose.

He put his hands up in a gesture of frustration and spun to Jim, caught a rebuff in the man's eyes, and gave up, heading to the bedroom. Nothing like Jim looking unsure to dampen the mood, because when the psychopath he knew and loved was hiding tentative fear behind his eyes, it never led to anything good. Anything at all.

Richard was on his heels faster than his brother, and he hoped to god that Jim could see some way out of this that didn't end in disposing of his body in the Thames.

The lights flicked on with the motion of his hand, mostly dim and tucked away neatly. Bastian had long since learned that total darkness would just make Jim come up clawing, and too much light left him on edge and fucked up. Best that things were this way, because he could read and doze and drift off when the drugs Bastian slipped him finally took effect.

He was pretty fond of not being dead, even if he'd courted and made out with death. 

"Take off your pants," Richard murmured, spinning around Bastian as he stopped short of the bed. His hands were on Bastian's waistband, even as he gave the suggestion.

"Jim..."

"Do please obey, Basty. I did tell him you were so lovely when you obeyed." Yes, and Jim liked to give him presents, but this felt more like he was being made the present. Maybe, too, it felt like things were spiraling out of his control because there was an edge present in their bedroom that he usually only saw when Jim was at his worst.

The idea that the shining honed sharpness might have been a learned behaviour, well. That was vaguely terrifying.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fine." It wasn't fine at all, but he undid the first button, batting Richard's hands off of him, and then slid the zipper down with anger in the motion while he started to try to get out of his boots.

"Ah, he _is_ obedient," Richard sighed, stepping backwards, heading to the corner and the things Jim kept in there.

That was a thrill of sheer fucking terror in epic proportions, and then he realized that Jim's head was ducked, secretive little smile there that was only for him, and he relaxed. Probably it was stupid, that reaction, but the little shudder was there, and he knew. Recognized completely that anything dangerous would have been tucked away out of sight, and really, he wondered whose idea this had been. Bastian thought it had been Jim's and maybe a little his but...

"Oh, and big brother, you should see him on his knees."

"Well, we will, won't we?" He came up with the collar, the one Bastian thought of as an obedience collar, grinning and moving fast. "Kneel."

He hesitated, and then knelt, trousers open but not off because he still had his fucking boots on, and fuck. Fuck, if his hands were done to his neck, he couldn't protect Jim.

Jim had to know it, too, and he slid behind him, knees between Bastian's. "You'll be a good boy for Daddy, won't you, honey?" Sharp feel of fingers in his hair, and yeah, Jim had a Daddy kink, and he wondered just how warped the Brook family actually was.

He swallowed, tilted his head back with the pull of fingers, and Richard grinned as he slipped the collar around Bastian's neck. "Hands up as well. You know this drill, don't you? Or, wait, is this yours, Jimmy?"

Oh, shit. Shit, taunting Jim like that was bad. Very bad. It didn't matter if it was his or not (and, well, sometimes it was). It mattered that someone was being sharp and sarcastic about it and clearly Richard had a death wish. The fact that Bastian was, in fact, a fucking stone cold killer and that Jim paid him for that skill clearly hadn't parsed or maybe he was just more sporadic than Jim.

Maybe he missed things.

"I get everything I want." It was the only answer Jim gave, and one hand slid around Bastian's side, thumbing open his trousers.

"Obviously," Richard replied, voice light and singsong as he touched Bastian's wrists and guided them to the sides of his neck, like he was doing _hands behind your head for the cops_. He was quick with the locks, and there went Bastian's hands if things turned bad on them. On Jim, if he wanted to be honest. "Look at the two of you. You're beautiful, kneeling behind him, angry like that."

"You've always liked me angry. Why else would you have set Mum on fire?"

Bastian was suddenly deeply, terribly grateful that Jim had removed all of his lighters and glad the oven was electric. Maybe that wouldn't be enough.

"Because she was boring," Richard responded dully, "And always wringing her hands and crying and eventually, _eventually_ you get tired of normal people making those sounds because their minds can't comprehend."

Oh.

Fuck was a constant litany in the back of his head, and Bastian wondered how he had reached this point. Jim's lips brushed the back of an ear, breathed a whisper of not-quite-reassurance, and then he pulled away from him slightly. "Why don't you let Bastian suck you? I promise he has quite the delicious mouth."

"All right. Yes, let's start there." Start, right, because there was no way in hell the night was finishing there, but he opened his mouth while the other man pulled out his erection, stroking it idly for a moment before dragging the head across Bastian's lips. "Doesn't really look like a cocksucking mouth, but we'll see."

Yeah. He'd see, all right, and Bastian could feel the encouragement even as Jim's hand slipped further inside his trousers, fingers wrapping warmly around his cock and gliding over it even as he darted out a tongue to taste the tip of Richard's prick. It was salty, tasted... not quite like Jim at all, less expensive soaps and moisturizers, more common, maybe, which was laughable. Still, might as well give it his all. Blow jobs didn't necessarily ensure that he wouldn't get shot in the head, but it couldn't be a bad start.

There were worse choices he could make just then, like biting down.

He kept his mouth loose when Richard shoved forward, cutting right to the chase of it, so to speak, when he liked to take his time, really drag it out to something good. That was fine, it was his fucking blowjob. Bastian could work either, and if he didn't care to have a properly executed one, well, they would work their way through a shitty one instead.

Jim's fingers were slipping past his hands, thumbs stroking gently at his jaws, a motion made so easily, tenderly, that it more than anything else made his lashes drop, made him moan a little from the pleasure of being touched. "That's it. That's good."

He stretched his fingers, clenched them, exhaled in a moan. Jim's fingers on his jaw while his brother edged in closer, started to fuck his face, not anywhere he'd ever expected to be in his life. Richard shoved in deep, hit the back of his throat, and Bastian had a moment of choke, swallow, or reflexively bite down, and it was a struggle just to gag and swallow, huffing air out through his noise. "Mhm, that is good. I could do this for hours, you have a really nice mouth. C'mon, tilt your head a little, I do want to fuck your throat. Have you ever done this to him, Jim?" 

It wasn't all that surprising when Jim leaned down and nipped sharply at his ear, their faces so close together it felt impossible with his mouth being reamed. "What haven't we done, sweetheart? Hmmm?" Oh. God, they'd done everything, and Bastian loved to be on his knees or balls deep in Jim's ass. Loved it, and with Jim whispering filthy susurrations in his ear, this was seriously turning him on.

He hummed agreement, gagging again as Richard hit the back of his throat and stayed there that time, tiny thrusting motions mashing his pelvis against Bastian's nose until breathing with a cock lodged in his throat was his first concern. He jerked a little, pulled at his wrists but couldn't get them anywhere. "Shared him before?"

"Ricky, you know I don't share my things. People like to break them." That tone of voice was usually reserved for mob bosses who had pissed him off. "And you know that. You're the one who taught me that lesson."

"Why am I here again?" Richard teased, pulling back, all the way out, leaving Bastian coughing and sucking in air desperately, tilting his head back down only to have his chin caught in Richard's fingers. "Tcht, discipline."

The feel of Jim against his back was reassuring, and that had to be just plain wrong. "I thought my Basty might like a little gift. It seemed like the appropriate time, considering your interests and mine seem to be colliding."

"That is convenient," Richard sighed, rubbing the tip of his dick against Bastian's lips again, humming to himself. "Mmm, look at that, he just melts into you. That's trust, Jimmy. You made a normal human trust you. Why on earth would you go and do that?"

Smear of salty dick against his lips, tracing against his cheek, then back again. He opened his lips only to be slapped lightly with it instead. "Oh, the time seemed right. You know. _Mirrors_. He has one, I have one... really quite the charming notion, don't you think? So.. quaint."

"Wrong. Try again, Jimmy. Obviously, you've had him longer than that..." Cock bumped his lips again, and he closed his eyes briefly, ready for it. When Richard pushed in, it wasn't as much of a surprise, and he managed to get his throat open enough not to choke so badly this go round.

JIm was still there, thumbs on his jugular just above the collar, slow pressure that grew and let up, pushed a bit harder and then let up again. "Mmm. It was an excellent idea, so of course I had it first. Perhaps you should consider it."

He swallowed, drool running down his chin as Richard started to fuck him harder. He kept focused on what Jim was doing, still pulling at the collar uselessly. "You know all his buttons, don't you?"

"He's mine." It was nothing new; fact of life, even, because he was Jim's, he'd be Jim's until he died, probably beneath sharp edges and fingers and a final spray of completely fucking mad. "He'll always be mine."

It made him shiver, or shudder. Or both at the same time, and then Richard's fingers were in the longer pieces of his hair, holding on as he started to thrust harder. Jim was still touching him, soothing him through it, and Bastian thought that if he survived this, he was going to make Jim suffer for it.

A lot.

For quite some time.

The pushing became erratic and then Richard made a familiar sound, coming sort of sound, and fuck. Fuck, that was, he was choking on it, and god. Ugh.

He swallowed as best as he could with a cock still in his throat, gagging and swallowing again as the man finally backed out, too slow to be useful for him. "Oh, I'd love to use that mouth more often, Jimmy. I bet he'd drink piss. Does he drink piss?"

No. No, he did not, but Jim was giving little considering noises, soft and thoughtful. "Basty does all sorts of things, don't you, darling?" Oh, that was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad idea. Fucking awful, and he coughed again, head and hands shifted to the side, and he looked up at Jim, saw the vague reflection of himself in those dark eyes, maybe saw himself the way that Jim saw him, and that was...  
 Terrifying.

"Mmm, that's lovely, just lovely. Later, though. Why don't you give him a little room to move, Jimmy, and he can stand up. Stand up, Sebastian." 

He almost followed through, but waited, because Jim was wrapped around him and he had a preference for that, for Jim. Jim frightened people, made them want to run, made them fall to pieces in horrible, deeply visible ways.

Richard was somehow far, far worse, and he had looked so very innocent and soft and not at all dangerous that he had somehow missed it.

"Mine," Jim whispered in his ear, just a breath, and then moved to the other. "Mine."

"This is the stupidest fucking thing I've ever fucking done," Bastian murmured, standing up just like he was told despite it, because fuck, Jim was right there, and he seemed to think it was a good idea, and Richard was smiling at him in a lazy way, comfortable as he reached a hand out to stroke Bastian's arm as if that was his right.

It bloody fucking well wasn't.

"Oh, no, darling, not by far. The stupidest thing would be the night you declared that very unfortunate thing to Red Gloria. Shame, really. He was an excellent thief."

Richard didn't seem to care about the conversation, and started to unbuckle his belt. "Why don't you turn around and lean over the bed. Chest on the mattress, ass up."

He wanted to say no. He wanted to say fuck off and die, more like, but his hands were literally bound and he suspected that wasn't going to end well for him.

"I'll help you up, dear." Jim's hands were iron on his elbow, helping him to his feet.

He didn't want to end up facedown on the bed, but Jim wanted it and he was playing along for Jim's sake. It was all some power game to a power game, and he never wanted to be caught in the middle of that. It was stupid and it put him in a damnably vulnerable position. If he lived through it, he was going to take every goddamned bit of it out of Jim's hide.

The bed left him at an awkward height, not comfortably kneeling, sprawled hard on his chest with his elbows digging in the mattress, hands still caught awkwardly. "Jesus, what the hell are you doing?"

"Enjoying myself." That was Richard, a thrum of sound that was terrifying. When Jim sounded like that, people got hurt, and it was most often in ways that meant that they needed to be put back together again. Bastian managed to shift up partially before the line of fire struck high over his left hip and all the way down to his upper right thigh.

He shifted, trying to get more on the bed when the next strike hit his ass cheek firmly. "Beautiful. You have a pert ass for a man your age. Do you do squats?"

"Fuck you," Bastian mumbled into the PVC cover.

That laugh was unhinged. Completely mad, and Bastian tried to look back, expression horrified. Christ on a crutch, and yet Jim seemed completely calm. He put a knee on their bed, the crinkle of plastic beneath his knee, and moved to sit, thighs spread, in front of Bastian. "Mmm, but you do have a beautiful arse."

He clenched his fingers, and muffled a groan as another blow hit his other ass cheek. "Atta boy. Why don't you have him suck you off, Jimmy? I'd like to see that."

Yeah, he'd like to see a lot of things, Bastian would just bet. It was like night and day between them, both crazy as hell, but Jim was playing the angel to his brother's demon, mirror images that were beginning to fuck with the way he thought. Jim's thumbs stroked over his cheekbones, brushed alongside his nose and down to his mouth. "Would you, sweetheart? Hmmm?"

He exhaled in a huff, eyes half-closed. It was hard to tilt his head back to look at Jim, but he nodded enough that Jim could see. "Yeah." Yeah, at least he could focus on that and enjoy it, enjoy it without guilt because his dick was starting to ache from the ass beating Richard was laying on him with slow deliberation. Fuck, the fact that it turned him on was probably a sickness, steady, terrible, without any leniency whatsoever, and he groaned when Jim moved closer, got his hand on his dick and started rubbing the head slowly across his lips, back and forth, back and forth, teasing.

He leaned up on his elbows, and opened his mouth, licking the tip. There was no steering, no guiding, just accepting, but Jim liked to be played with and to enjoy the different feelings. Even the throat fucking was different. He tasted right, smelled right.

Richard landed another hard strike on his ass, and then he felt a hand squeeze over the strike. "What a beautiful handful. Did you let your men fuck you, or were you always on top? Never mind, Jimmy can tell me."

"Jimmy won't." The o of that word stretched out, long and sing-song, and Bastian couldn't help whining, because the squeezing turned to pinching and fuck. Fuck.

"Oh. Please? Is it because you don't know? I can't imagine you don't know everything your pet's ever got up to. Up _into_." He brushed dry fingers down Bastian's crack, and his knee shuddered for a moment, flexed but not quite on the floor, toes flexing when Richard stepped back to hit him again.

God. Fucking. Damn. Fucking damn, and he was sucking Jim hard, moaning into the effort, wanted to touch him so badly. Reassurance or, or something, he didn't fucking know, and the belt never seemed to fucking stop long enough. No such thing. "Oh, honey, you know I know everything. But what's life without... nnnngh. Without... oh, that's... yes."

Secrets.

He was so careful, moaning against Jim's dick with every stroke because if he went tense he was going to bite and he wasn't going to bite Jim unless that was the mood, and it wasn't then. Richard gave a quiet laugh, and smacked him low across the thigh, the belt leaving a fresh burning feeling. "God, look at him going to town on you. That's beautiful. Just suck suck suck...."

God, he just. It had to be over eventually, and he moaned, the sound vibrating against Jim's dick, and Jim was making the best, most amazing noises, and it didn't matter that Bastian's breath was hitching, that he could feel the sting in his sinuses. Fuck.

"So pretty like this, Basty. So... mmm, baby, I don't get to see this often enough."

"Don't come. Unless you can still get it up again fast," Richard murmured, "Or I can take my time playing with his ass..." Another strike, pain on top of pain until it all felt like it was radiating heat like an oven. He swallowed, and slurped along Jim, trying to stay focused, not to feel, but it was hard not to feel and feel and feel, feel everything, feel Jim's pleased sounds and the way his hand rummaged through Bastian's hair stroke over stroke like he was petting a dog.

Fuck.

Fuck, he couldn't bear much more, and he realized along the way that he had stopped, was sobbing openmouthed against Jim's hip, and Jim was still petting him, making tiny shush noises with a delight that was undeniable. "Isn't he so lovely? Do you think he's ready now?" It wasn't so much a question as it was a request for an opinion, or so it seemed.

Fingers squeezed his left ass cheek. "I think he's ready. Up on the bed now, boy. Come on, move fast." A foot nudged his calf, and his hands pinned to his neck made it hard, folded into Jim as he already was. It was mostly toe traction, and pulling his legs back together and focusing as he tried to scoot up, move the way he was asked to move. Jim pulled on him just a little, hands stroking over his back, and somewhere along the way he'd gotten completely naked and he couldn't remember if he had even noticed.

"Lube." It seemed incongruous, mostly because Richard didn't seem the sort to care if it hurt either of them.

"In the drawer, Ricky. Lots and lots of it. Get the silicon slick."

"I want him bareback." It wasn't a request, but a statement, as Bastian settled on Jim, shuddering as the pain continued to bloom all on its own, and Jim stretched out on the bed. The sight of him made him tremble, and he was shaking his head.

"No."

No, and the entire room seemed to go still for a long moment. He had felt it before, that knife's edge of a moment, usually right before Jim had him shoot someone.

"No?"

"No."

Bastian heard the condom wrapper, small foil sound as fingers pushed thoughtfully at one ass cheek. It left a flare of fresh pain on his skin, adding to the heat. "It was worth asking. One day, I suppose. Kneel over him, Bastian. Up, stop lying down."

There was something delicious in the depths of Jim's eyes, warm and so deep that he could barely see it. "You're going to love this, sweetheart."

Bull fucking shit.

He clenched his teeth, stomach tense as he leveraged himself from his awkward sprawl on top of Jim. "What're we, what do you want me to do?"

"Oh, enjoy a little ass play, and then I want to watch you fuck yourself on Jimmy there," Richard murmured. The mattress sunk a little, and he felt Richard kneel behind him. There was a brush of smiling teeth against the loosely curled fingers behind his neck. He laughed when Bastian clenched them into fists again, and that look was there again, something that he couldn't understand when he looked at Jim.

"You'll be fine," Jim said, and the reassurance was starting to fucking creep him out completely. Jim didn't do reassurance, he did utterly mad things, made people around him scared for their lives. This was, it was insanity, and there were fingers brushing between his cheeks, slick with the lube from the stupid pink bottle, and two shoved in with little warning.

He grunted then, because it was less shocking than the fucking strapping he'd just gotten, and he was used to being fucked senseless, to fucking senseless. Richard's teeth bit down against his shoulder, just pressure, while the two fingers didn't stretch, so much as search, and pull at him for a moment before starting to friction in and out, fast. Like he was a bloody bint, and fast friction was all he needed. Jim was laughing, a soft sound, and his thigh was pressing against Bastian's cock, a slow, steady rub that didn't even begin to make up for fact that his goddamned twin had all of the bedroom finesse of a fourteen year old. Hell, he was fairly certain that he'd had more at that age, and then another finger was added and he couldn't stop the sound that broke out of him.

His knee slipped, and that faint loss of traction just left Richard's fingers shoved deeper up his ass. "God. What I'd love to do with you, tiger. I'd fuck you a whole new asshole, you're so tight! Look at this..." He pulled his fingers out, and then shoved them back in harder.

"Hmmm." Jim pulled him closer, hands clenched in Bastian's hair, and kissed him, long and thorough. "I tell you, he always did break his toys. This is why."

Richard pulled his fingers out again, and then there was nothing and that was a brief relief. "And you still let me meet yours. Here, that should be ready enough. Take him now."

The unholy glee of that command spoke more loudly than words, and Jim squirmed, pushed and pulled at Bastian until he had him where he wanted him and then looked up and straight into his face. For one split second, he could _see_ , and Richard couldn't, and whatever it was, Bastian knew that it was going to be spectacular. Then Jim was pressing his dick against Bastian's hole, pushing up slowly, and all Bastian could do was hold still and enjoy it. "Uh, fuck. Fuck..." He never wanted his hands pinned up like that again, never. He'd shoot the next motherfucker who tried it, and Jim was going to suffer it for a very long time, and...

Oh. Shit. Fucking shit, that was just the right angle, and he couldn't help the sound that he made or the way that he shifted, trying to get it deeper. Trying to get more.

He just needed to drop, spread his knees a little more, folded over Jim as he kept easing into him. "Oh yeah. Lift your hips a little." Just a little, just enough, and then he did. He moved just so, and there was no way to hide the noises he made in appreciation of the fact.

"God, I always loved seeing this. Do you remember? What was her name... Oh. Erzebet, wasn't it?"

"Margaret," Jim murmured, so quietly that Bastian barely heard it.

He exhaled shakily, breathing as he felt fingers press on his back, sliding down to touch the edge of his asshole, the faint motion of Jim not quite moving in and out. "Of course, she had two holes. But I think this'll do."

Immediate reaction. He bucked up, body bowing, and Jim's hands were on the collar, his neck, his hands, somewhere, holding him still. The eyes looking up at him were dead fucking serious and threatening. "Be still!"

"You can't fucking be serious, you can't, fuck, fuck..." Richard's hands on his hips pushed him back down onto Jim, held them still while Jim held onto the collar like he was a bull that was going to wrestle free. No, there was no way, even in play, that shit took prep, and he hardly ever bottomed for Jim, that was... 

"Play nice, or I'll make you," Richard growled, pressing against his back.

That could in no way be good. Just couldn't, and he went still, body tensed hard and waiting. The touch of his prick rubbed against Bastian's hole, rub, rub, rub, and Jim was looking up at him, all inscrutable gaze and lust and a desire for control in his eyes. "Be Daddy's good boy, hm, Basty?"

His hands clenched into fists, and he was shaking his head, but yeah. He could get out, he could run, it was all there, possible, and he didn't. He stayed kneeling on Jim's hips, and bit his bottom lip hard when he felt Richard press in, slowly, where his skin was already stretched tight around Jim's dick. "Uhn, fuck, Christ..."

Christ was the least of it, and he couldn't hold back the keening sound when Richard managed to get into him. It felt like, sounded like, god. He didn't know. It was a feeling _like_ a sound, maybe, like the air pressure of a cork coming out of a bottle or... he had no idea. None, and Jim's hands were stroking, soothing, plucking at his nipples and then pinching the ever-loving shit out of them. Bastian reacted, squirmed, tried to do more than that, but Richard had blanketed him and he was stuck between the two.

Caught between Jim and his twin, both of them in him and him on his knees, off balance and sprawled on Jim when Richard moved backwards. His hands were tight on Bastian's hips, flexing when he thrust back in. It pushed a startled moan from him, the pressure painful, and he tried to pull away again.

The sound of Jim hissing furiously made him still, even now, and he automatically looked at him. His face was set into the expression that usually only came out when he was threatening to torture someone to death (or actually doing so, because this was Jim, and he enjoyed that sort of thing in a sick sort of way). "Be still!"

He closed his eyes through the next thrust, panting through the pain. "I can't. I fucking can't..."

"Except you are," Richard reminded, thrusting hard enough that his hips slammed against still hot red skin, and he couldn't help the sound he made or the fat salty drops that fell on Jim's forehead from his chin.

Fucking sweat.

"And baby, you are beautiful." Jim cooed it, leaning up to nuzzle at his jawline above the collar.

He half hoped Jim took an elbow to his head, but he was straining and hunched over, and gave up fighting. It was almost a relief, just to feel it, even if his erection was long gone, the two of them fucking him in a slow unsteady counterpoint. He could only imagine what he looked like, what all of them did. Some sort of warped art piece where he was the mirror between two different sides of hell, maybe, and the movements from behind became heavier, more demanding.

Fucking through him, and he was just along for the ride then, stretched and spread by their two cocks, breathing and feeling stiff pain slowly become something better, more interesting. Usable, maybe. He could close his eyes, and rub against Jim, breathing, steady and in time with the movements, and then Jim's hand touched him, a stroke of firm motion that sent a thrill through him.

"Just like that, yeah." Yeah, and Jim's voice was something familiar, something he identified as getting off on while hearing it, and that helped.

"Please, Jim..." He wasn't even sure it was audible, but he needed to hear more, needed to hear Jim and not Richard, who was laughing in his ear.

"That's right, beg for it...."

Bastard. Bastard, and Sebastian was going to put a bullet through his fucking head, and that thought made his dick jump, his impossibly stretched and aching hole tighten. He couldn't help moaning, and then Jim was murmuring, a constant, steady stream of words that told him how pretty he was or talked about hits and trajectories or the movement of the heavens, didn't matter, but every word was a stroking tug at his dick, and that was perfect.

He loved one side of the mirror a hell of a lot more than the other. Rode the familiar tilts of Jim's voice, clenched and moaned and focused on the Moriarty in front of him, not the Brook behind him. That was the thing to do, the perfect thing to do, and it didn't matter that he could feel a thumbnail digging along his spine. If anything, that made him rut a little more enthusiastically against Jim's hand, and yeah. Yeah. Yes.

It was just Jim and some asshole dildo whose neck he'd like to snap. He ducked his head down, moaning against Jim's hair as he tried, felt, close to getting off. Close, and he wouldn't be surprised if the little son of a bitch riding him tried to stop it, but the determined pace Jim's hand was setting said it wouldn't matter. Wouldn't, and then he was gasping, breathless and fucking _there_.

The noise he was making was probably going to haunt him, whinging and long when he went tight around them both, painting Jim's stomach with semen and shivers. It seemed to take for-fucking-ever before Richard quit rutting into him and decided he'd had enough, climbing off of him. Jim still felt hard in him, but then again, he might not be. Pretty much anything would probably make his ass twinge and ache and think it was huge, all things considered.

He stayed where he was, panting atop Jim, and finally opened his eyes. "Interesting. He's quite fond of you..."

"Mmmm." That was all, not another word spoken for several minutes. "Yes, well. I did say as much."

"I still came close," Richard murmured. It made Bastian wonder what the hell they were talking about.

"Can I get my wrists undone?"

Richard huffed a breath, but Jim's hands were warm on his wrists, letting him loose, letting him free. He rolled over when he got the chance, shooting a look at Jim's brother. It took him a moment to pay attention to what Jim was saying, and it was only because he could see the delight on the face of that son of a bitch.

"I need you to do something for me, Basty. In Italy, I think." Which meant Russia, but what the fuck.

"Sure, boss." Sure. Anything he said, even if he was sweaty and ruined and his ass and thighs were on fire. Anything Jim said. That was how it was. It would always be, no matter that the squirrelly little shit had a mirror image who was even more bugfuck crazy than he'd ever been.

"Sending him away so that I can't get my hands on him anymore?" So much mockery in that voice. "All to keep him away from little old me?"

"You set Mum _on fire_!" Jim hissed, sitting up in a flurry of motion.

"You didn't seem to mind at the time!"

Bastian closed his eyes, and put a hand over them. "Jim, can I escort him out?"

"Please do." He sounded peeved and childish, and his bottom lip was suspiciously pouty. The urge to tell him not to overact was quite phenomenal.

He still took a minute, catching his breath and pretending he was all right when he really wasn't fucking all right at all. Then he rolled off the bed, and advanced at Richard.

"Jimmy! Jimmy, come on, we had _plans_ for tonight..."

"Yes, and my plans have changed." That particularly cruel curl of his mouth was infinitely familiar. "You aren't the only one allowed to change his mind about something, Ricky. I would much prefer my playthings remain mine and unbroken until I decide to break them myself."

"Get your clothes back on," Bastian said firmly, folding his arms over his chest. There was anger back there, and maybe letting him think things were great would've been the more politically sound thing to do, but fuck it. He didn't want to do that. He wanted to shoot the fucker through his left eye and watch his skull open in a shower of blood and bone and brain matter.

"We can talk about our other plans later."

The thing was that Jim was brilliant. Clearly Richard was no slouch in that department either, but somewhere along the way Jim had learned a subtle sort of manipulation that allowed him to let others think that he was doing exactly as they wanted, and he got the feeling that Richard never had, nor had he learned to identify it.

"Fine. Fine! I can see what this is, you want to have obsessive time with your pet here now that I've put my grubby hands on him," Richard declared, pulling on his pants, grabbing his shirt and his sweater.

That earned a particularly bitter laugh. "Well. You know I always like to look over my things when you're done with them."

Richard gave him a sharp sort of smile. There wasn't even a hint of cowed in his eyes, not a fraction of dismay or fear as Sebastian followed him out of the bedroom while he pulled on pieces of clothing, taking a moment to hop into his shoes in the living room. "I know what you're thinking, Sebastian. But I could offer you so much more than the small little games Jimmy gets up to. It's all piddling, Semtex and smuggling rings, really?"

"Get out."

Out before he threw him out, or slit his throat. The latter seemed like such a better idea, and Bastian was fairly sure that thought was reflected in his eyes

Richard Brooke never so much as flinched.

He still got the man out -- with angry looks and a tilt of his head and opening the door and not giving a fuck that he was standing there naked and well fucked and beaten.

It didn't matter. He hadn't been in control, but neither had Brook, although he probably believed that he had been.

Jim was still lounging on their bed when he stepped back inside, hands behind his neck, broody dark gaze leveled at the ceiling. "I suppose he went agreeably enough."

"Quietly." He shut the bedroom door behind himself as well, because nothing in the kitchen was going to catch fire and he wanted the feeling of extra peace just then. Sitting wasn't an option, but getting back onto the bed on his stomach maybe was.

"I'm not sorry." Of course he wasn't. Jim was rarely sorry for anything at all. He'd never apologized for anything that Bastian could recall, although he did shift, turn in his direction, one hand out in something like... He didn't know what. "I think I have him exactly where I want him now."

Bastian dug his shoulder into the mattress, watching Jim's eyes. And he couldn't let him into whatever the plan was, of course not. "What the fuck brought him to the surface, anyway?"

"What do you think?" Rhetorical question, surely. That stretched out hand stroked slowly up his side. "I went looking for him. I expect I'll need him when I decide on the solution for the final problem."

He exhaled unsteadily, feeling the shift of Jim's fingers over his skin, fever hot now that it was only Jim and he could feel everything again. "You'll have to explain that to me when we get there."

"Yeah." It was lazy, or maybe tired. Bastian closed his eyes, and it was a bit surprising to feel him continue stroking, touching him. Maybe it was something like reassurance. "When we get there."


End file.
